Infiltration

George Stacy had his own principles. Since he had discovered a gang hideout, there was no way he could simply ignore it.

Most importantly, he needed an achievement to get himself out of this godforsaken place.

In his heart, Hell's Kitchen was already beyond saving.

At the very least, he was powerless to change it. So now, all he wanted was to leave as soon as possible—out of sight, out of mind.

Although the Irish Mob had connections of its own.

Those connections were all under the table. As long as he moved fast enough and kept things secret enough, the credit would fall securely into his hands.

As for anything else...

What did it have to do with George Stacy?

To prevent any leaks, he had requested all these officers from other precincts.

Upon arriving at the location, George Stacy spoke into the radio.

"Surround the place. Make sure not a single one of them gets away."

As he spoke, George Stacy got out of the car and put on his bulletproof vest, a hint of excitement stirring in his heart.

Once twenty or thirty officers had gotten out of their vehicles and the specially deployed SWAT team was in position, George Stacy picked up a loudspeaker.

"You are surrounded. You have five minutes to think it over. Drop your weapons and surrender!"

Inside the warehouse, a bald, burly man frowned.

"What the hell is going on? Why are the cops here? Did Noah Allen tip them off?"

He cursed inwardly. Why wasn't that kid playing by the rules?

But he was not afraid.

This was Hell's Kitchen. Here, the police were not the law. Their gang was the law in Hell's Kitchen!

Besides, to kill that somewhat strange Noah Allen, they had brought enough weapons to fight a war.

"Boss, what do we do? Fight our way out?"

A man with tattoos all over his face walked over.

"What kind of stupid question is that? If we don't fight our way out, are we supposed to sit here and wait for dinner?"

The burly man cursed as he picked up his gun, then glanced toward the shadows in the warehouse before paying them no further attention.

That guy was not one of his men.

After making his announcement, George Stacy took cover behind a police car.

He knew full well that those gangsters would not surrender so easily.

Just then, a streak of light flashed past. With a deafening boom, a police car was flipped over, and several officers screamed.

George Stacy's pupils contracted.

"A rocket!

Those sons of bitches have heavy weapons!

Return fire! Return fire!"

As he shouted, George Stacy fired first.

The gangsters had already begun breaking through the perimeter.

George Stacy's face turned ashen. They had lost several men before the fight had even properly begun. If these bastards got away, he would be in serious trouble.

At the same time, he cursed inwardly.

They were just a bunch of gangsters, yet they had even gotten their hands on rocket launchers. What were they trying to do, start a rebellion?

For a moment, gunfire erupted everywhere.

Both sides had fierce firepower, and the battle became exceptionally intense.

From afar, Noah silently observed the battlefield. Even he was a little surprised when he saw the police car explode.

The Irish Mob's firepower had exceeded his expectations.

No matter what, this was New York.

Gangsters carrying guns was one thing, but they even dared to use rockets. Did they really think the government's violent apparatus was just there for decoration?

But after giving it some thought, he understood.

This was, after all, a remote area, and these gangsters' target was him.

The rocket launcher was probably something they had brought just in case.

They had only been forced to use it after being surrounded by the police.

The police were clearly in a bad situation. After all, the Irish Mob had even brought out heavy weapons.

George Stacy had not prepared for something like that.

So, what should he do next?

A smile curled at Noah's lips.

For someone as peace-loving as him to be bullied time and again—if even a saint wouldn't get angry, then who would?

Using the cover of night and gunfire, Noah made his way toward the warehouse.

The destruction of the Irish Mob began now.

As he walked, faint, low whimpering occasionally drifted through the surroundings.

At the same time, the scalp-crawling sound of insects scuttling about continued without pause.

Noah thought regretfully that it was a shame Hound Gen 2 had yet to be formulated. Otherwise, tonight would have been much easier.

He soon reached the edge of the battlefield. After taking a look around, Noah slipped toward the rear.

There was fighting in the back as well, though the commotion was noticeably smaller.

"Go..."

Noah murmured. Suddenly, the buzzing of beating wings filled the air.

A swarm of Corpse-Eating Insects flew toward a pane of glass five or six meters up the warehouse wall.

With a crash, the glass shattered under the impact of their hard bodies, and countless Corpse-Eating Insects poured inside.

Then, two screams rang out from within.

Noah then glanced at the zombie hounds around him.

"Circle around and get in."

Once he gave the order, he ignored the zombie hounds' movements. He took several steps back, then lunged forward.

When he reached the base of the wall, he stretched upward, caught hold of a recessed spot, and pulled himself up. In the next instant, his hand had seized the edge of the window.

He was no Punisher, but years of training had given him a sufficiently powerful physique.

Otherwise, why would he dare put himself in danger?

After landing inside, Noah looked around. Two corpses lay not far away.

"Morton, the boss wants you up front to help out!"

A voice called out, and then a lean man ran over.

The moment he saw Noah, he froze.

"Who are you?!"

As he spoke, he raised his gun to fire.

But Noah's eyes held nothing but mockery.

Raise a gun?

Dream on.

"Awooo!"

A canine howl rang out. Pain shot through the lean man's hand, and he could no longer hold on to his gun.

When he looked beside him, he saw seven or eight strange vicious hounds staring at him intently.

Ordinary vicious dogs might not have frightened him, but these hounds were hairless, with parts of their bodies badly damaged.

They looked like hellhounds straight out of Hell.

At the sudden sight of this, he was scared out of his wits and had completely lost the ability to resist.

Noah sneered.

"Tell me, where is Finn Kuli?"

At the front of the warehouse, Baldy, who was directing his men in battle, suddenly sensed that something was wrong.

"How long has Wilbur been gone?"

"At least five minutes!" one of the men beside him answered.

Five minutes!

How big could this warehouse possibly be?

Five minutes was more than enough time to go there and back!

"Something's wrong. Everyone, stay sharp!"

Baldy felt increasingly uneasy.

Could someone have snuck in while they were fighting the police?

But that was impossible. There were guards at the back entrance, and gunfire was still coming from there, so the battle clearly wasn't over.

Baldy's unease deepened. With anger in his eyes, he looked toward a corner.

"If you still don't make a move, at this rate, all my men are going to die!"

He knew full well how skilled the person his boss had hired was with a gun.

It was downright bizarre. His bullets could even curve. If that man had helped them, they would have broken out long ago.

How could they have been pinned down here all this time?

"It's coming."

The voice came from that corner, carrying a clear note of confusion.

"I'm afraid quite a few of your men are dead."

Baldy's expression changed slightly.

Then he saw the assassin they had hired at great expense walk toward the rear.

After hesitating for a moment, Baldy merely cursed under his breath and continued exchanging fire with the police.

He was deeply agitated.

After all this time, even though they had made arrangements with the police department, it would not be long before police reinforcements arrived.

If they delayed any longer, none of them would get away.

Please send some favorites, recommendations, investments, and tips my way. The favorites are rising pretty well, so why are all the other numbers still so low? Sigh!

PS: I thought I'd hit 300 favorites yesterday, but the increase was painfully bad. It actually took until after midnight to reach 300. That's just ridiculous... I'm starting to suspect Qidian is messing with me. (Angry face)